Dear Parent Scheduler

It's really nice to see that you can send and read e-mail. I've noticed something lately,though, of which you should be aware. If you notify the guy who MAKES the schedule two weeks beforehand, he won't schedule your kids to participate in the service on the weeks you are busy.

I know it works because I've told him each time we go on vacation, and Bubba isn't scheduled that weekend. Problem solved.

I know that means all of us on the mailing list won't know EXACTLY where C and J and your family are going on vacation, or dance competitions, or band recitals, but we will just have to live with seeing you every so often on the weekends, so we can ask about you in person.

Hope you enjoy trying it out.

Pleasant journeys (and you don't need to tell me about them, if you don't want).

Sincerely,

RehabRN

She'll end up like Martha

Martha Stewart that is.

Bubba recently went to a fundraiser at his school, Esteemed Educator Junior High. We sat in a group with a seventh grade girl from the Honor Society and her mother, who was very nice. Blondie was one of those highly strung types who was in love with Harry Potter and wants to be a business executive when she grows up.

I expected Blondie (not her real name) to not know Bubba because she  is in a different grade. She kind of looked at him with disdain. Bubba, thankfully, tends to ignore/not notice girls who act silly.

We played a version of Family Feud and Bubba and Blondie guessed most of the answers, since they came from a poll of the seventh grade. Blondie is also a member of the Honor Society who totaled up the poll results and scored them.

Blondie kept telling her mother, "I'm not cheating, I'm using my resources." I really had to bite my tongue. Let's just hope Blondie doesn't get it into her head to join any of the more trusted professions, like nursing.

Because she may have to learn first that what she is doing really IS cheating. As the old adage goes, cheaters never win.

More later...

Choices

My travelling partner was not feeling well Monday. Her blood pressure was up when I checked it the other day, by machine and manually. She came in because we are short of staff. "This vertigo won't go away." she said. Yesterday, it was so bad, she went to the ER. They admitted her.

He was one of our regulars. A mustachioed man with a syrupy accent so heavy, I was occasionally called in to translate (because I'm good at translating) for the new nurses who don't recognize the  cadence and drawl from his part of the South. One nurse I worked with had known from the time he was injured. He knew our programs so well he could have taught them, she said. We were the safety net: if he got sick, he always came to us (even drove himself this time).

But he was more than sick:  he was septic, so the Hotel was not the place for him. We sent him on to Washington for more acute care, and he got worse. He survived some crazy cardiac stunts, but the last procedure set off a cascade from which he did not survive. His car sat on the parking lot when I arrived the other morning. The family came and picked it up yesterday.

Today, I read this story, passed along from one of my coworkers. He didn't want to live like many folks do at the Hotel. He just wanted to die, and with his family, he did. It was so sad because he chose to leave when his wife was  pregnant with his first child. "He'll never hold their child.", the article said.

He'll never see that child, either, or make a difference in his/her life. That is the part, to me, which is the saddest. I have worked with rehab patients who have raised children (yes, they need help), and they do parent them. They do discipline them. They do care, even if they cannot lift a finger.

The choices we make can change things forever.

Lessons in life

Sometimes you just have to pass on opportunities that come your way.

I did that on a recent shift when the Slug brought his/her kids to the unit while they waited for Parent #2 to pick them up.

Tweener, the Slug's sporting child came in while I was eating and asked, "Is it fun to work with  my Parent (the Slug)?" Of course, I immediately quashed the urge to jump all over that one. Kids in Tweener's age group like sarcasm, but tend to feed it right back to parents when they think it's needed, especially as a weapon. Tweener decided to regale me with the "My parent doesn't do this, is grumpy at home and sometimes mean. They say Parent is a lot of fun to work with."

I remembered my New Year's resolution to get out of the gossip and downing of others, so I had a good time using those therapeutic communication skills to extricate myself.

"Well," I said, "You know, nursing, especially here at the Hotel, can be a hard job. (Tweener shakes head) Do you want to be a nurse?"

Tweener says yes, but he/she's really interested in veterinary stuff, however, he/she's not sure about drawing blood.

"You know," I said, "You might change your mind. It's not surprising that it seems scary. It's a job we have to do, but if you're good at it, you learn how to do it without hurting anyone." Tweener nodded head in affirmation.

"I'm going to go get some pizza. See ya!"

And so another placid shift passed at the Hotel and I thanked my lucky stars, even as I scraped the springtime snow off my car.

Stay tuned...